The White Chili Under the Fridge

Tomorrow is Mother's Day.

All day I have been scheming up lunch for tomorrow. It's white chili with cheese and lacosino chips, veggie sticks, and fresh bread. Then for dessert, it's strawberry pie.

So this evening, I danced around the kitchen making soup. I chopped up onions and cried and minced garlic in the slickest garlic press ever. I cut up chicken and poured chicken broth into a big ol' pot and fed leftover chicken scraps to the cat begging at my feet. I stepped through the spilled milk and chicken broth on the floor and made greasy tracks all over the kitchen floor. I stirred and dumped and measured and it somehow produced white chili. I let it simmer for half an hour. And it was done.

Everything was dandy.

There was one more thing I needed to do before bedtime though, actually two things: take a shower and the soup must go into the fridge for the night.

I briskly grab the soup pot and with a satisfied smile, haul it to the fridge in the garage.

Then disaster struck.

I still don't know if it actually happened. And since it's nighttime, everything seems a bit more dramatic. If someone was sitting beside me right now as I type this up, I would kindly ask them to please pinch me cause I do feel like I'm living a nightmare right now and I can't fully grasp that this actually happened.

But it did happen.

In between opening up the fridge door and attempting to rearrange the Tupperware containers in the fridge to make room for the soup all while bending over and trying to balance the full pot of soup on my hip, I… umm… sort of, kind of, mostly, completely

Dumped the soup.

Yup. I did.

Right on the cement floor.

Just boom bam smack.

I was distraught.

There, my precious soup was sprawled out on the cement garage floor. And our garage floor is not clean. It's filthy. Majorly filthy.

I still had some brain cells strung together, for suddenly I snatched the pot and was able to salvage some of the soap. I gingerly tried grabbing a few little bits of food off the floor with my fingers but then a few more of my brain cells kept stringing together and I realized that was definitely not the smartest idea on this planet earth. Because I started seeing cat and dog hair and a shriveled up worm on the garage floor as I was bent down.

So there I'm standing.

Distressed. Disappointed. And down right angry at myself for what I had done.

The first thought that rushed into my bewildered mind was "Do not tell mama!"

The next thought was, "What am I gonna DO?"

Then the following thought was, "How am I gonna clean this up? The soup is under the fridge too!"

It was not my favorite moment.

It was a million miles away from my favorite moment.

So I got busy. Scooping and wiping and cleaning the soup up and now the cats have a nighttime snack on the back deck. As I was running outside around the house in the dark, I muttered out loud to myself, "Do not step in any cat poop. Do not step in any cat poop. Do not step in any cat poop." I was barefoot. And that's the last thing I wanted to deal with was cat poop on my feet. My beloved cats don't necessarily have the best record at using the bathroom at proper places. The front lawns are their favorite spot. I don't know why.

Well, I stepped in something sticky and wet.

I hope it's mud.

I don't know though. I didn't smell it. I just scooted and twisted my feet on the garage rug and carried on.

So now, it’s late, and I'm lying in bed and contemplating life. I obviously am gonna be waking up super early tomorrow morning and making more white chili soup. I'm not impressed about that. But I refuse to let mama know about it now. I don't want to make her stressed about anything. It’s Mother’s day tomorrow and she doesn’t need any extra hassle. She will only find out when she reads this.

But for now… I'll try to forgive myself for making that stupid mistake of balancing full white chili pots on my hips. I'll also figure out how I'm gonna thaw and cook up more chicken and make another pot of soup before Mama gets up tomorrow morning.

I'll have to don my really sneaky cape. But I first need to find it.

And also to the white chili that is still under the fridge: right now, I don’t have the heart to clean you up so I guess you will just stay there. Until you start stinking. Or until mama reads this article and tells me to go clean it up.

(I don’t know if white chili stinks afterwhile. I assume it could but I don't know)

There many, many things I don't know.

But one thing I do know is, I love my mama. I would go through this hassle all over again if I need to. And I am still determined to make dinner for her tomorrow so she gets a break from cooking.

quote: ''Mistakes are proof that you're trying'' - Ernest Hemingway